Ezekiel 25:17
by WhyAreAllThePenNamesTaken
Summary: The Starks lay their vengeance upon Tywin Lannister and the Kings Landing City Watch Homicide Unit is left to pick up the pieces. Modern/Organised Crime AU set in Westeros. Rated T for violence.
1. Crime Scene

Detective Chief Inspector Selmy showed his warrant card to the constable on the perimeter and was met by DC Hunt near the front gate of the expensive Rosby property that was now the site of what would probably be the biggest investigation of his career.

"Details, Hunt."

"Sir we've got four dead bodies. Three guards, one in the car on the street, one on the front porch and one inside, all killed by single gunshot wounds to the head. No casings so far, but the guy on the porch was killed with a rifle so we could get something when we find the nest."

"Bullets?"

"Might get something from the guard in the car, but the porch round is misshapen by multiple impacts, unsuitable for comparison."

"What about the fourth man?"

"Tywin Lannister." The head of the city's underworld for the past two years, a crown won when Tywin's men riddled a local restaurant that was hosting a wedding reception that his main rival Eddard Stark had been attending, killing him, several of his men and crippling his son in the process. The case the drugs squad put together to bring down the rest of Stark's gang, including his son and brother in law, had just been an afterthought. Not that anyone had been able to prove anything. "He died a bit harder."

The two men walked through the richly appointed house and out into the backyard. There were more forensic techs taking pictures, this time of a blackened corpse lying amidst the ruins of what had probably been an expensive wooden chair on the stone patio.

"They set him on fire," commented Barristan.

"And shot him six times." The two men turned to see DS Tarth, all six feet, three inches of her, standing on the patio.

"How do you know it was six?" Hunt asked.

"Police work, Detective." She beckoned and they followed. "Tywin had security cameras on all the external areas, including the back yard." She led them upstairs past the third bodyguard, who had been killed as he ran down the stairs, and into a small room with a half dozen screens. Brienne tapped a few keys and the screens reset. The one on the top right and top centre showed the street in front, while the top left showed the front porch. The back patio was shown on the bottom centre screen.

A KLCW patrol car pulled up behind the parked car. The man who got out was in uniform but it was impossible to see any identifying marks and he was wearing what appeared to be a balaclava. He tapped on the window and when it was rolled down the man pulled out a suppressed pistol and fired a single shot into the car. At exactly the same time, the guard on the front porch stiffened and fell to the ground. The cop went back to his car and pulled out a battering ram. A car pulled up to the gate and three men got out, all wearing balaclavas and with their bodies securely insulated against the King's Landing winter's night. They walked up to the front door and two of the men used the battering ram to smash it open. A few minutes later, the men reappeared, this time dragging a half-naked Tywin, an expensive looking wooden chair and a can of petrol.

Tywin was tied to the chair and appeared to make some cutting remark right before one of the men put duct tape over his mouth and another upended the tank of petrol over his head. The fourth man, shorter and slighter than the rest and who hadn't done any physical labour so far, pulled a lighter from his pocket, lit it and tossed it at Tywin, who immediately burst into flame. He struggled, a sight made all the more horrible by the absence of sound, but Barristan forced himself to look. Then the leader pulled out a pistol and fired some shots – six in fact – into Tywin's chest who went almost instantly still. The group waited a moment, then they left, walking out the front door.

Brienne manipulated the controls and the top left screen reversed slightly. As Tywin was being burned out the back a women was running out the front, dressed in a short skirt and clutching a jacket and shoes. She headed down the street and didn't look back.

"Who's that?"

"As far as we know Tywin didn't have a steady girlfriend, but we'll ask around."

"We should check with Vice." Hunt offered. Brienne and Selmy regarded him. "I mean, the way she's dressed, no purse, in a place like this, with a guy like him, they'd probably know who she was.

Barristan couldn't argue with that. "There are bigger problems too, this is going to create a vacuum, which a dozen players are going to attempt to fill. King's Landing was going to bathe in blood no matter what we do."

"Not to mention that Tywin's own people are going to be out for blood, the man had a lot of friends" pointed out Hunt. He didn't add what the three of them were thinking, that those friends were on both sides of the law, and a lot of pockets were going to be getting lighter in the months to come.

"Lot of good those friends did him," stated Brienne, matter of factly.

_There's something in that. What it is I don't know._

Detective Chief Inspector sir. The three men looked up to see a young constable, Payne by his name tag – Selmy wondered if he was any relation to Sir Illyn Payne, Tywin's pet Judge.

"Yes"

"DCI Slynt is here to see you." The way the boy said the name told him that, related or not, the boy wasn't part of the network of dirty cops Tywin had kept on his payroll.

"Did he say what he wanted?"

"To offer his assistance to the investigation."

Hunt looked at Brienne. "Many hands do make light work."

Barristan didn't trust Slynt as far as he could throw him, but he couldn't piss him off either, the man had powerful friends, even with everything in flux. "Let's all play nice for now."

Slynt was waiting on the back patio "They set him on fire"

"And shot him six times," piped in Hunt.

"Does the drug squad know who Tywin's enemies were?" Brienne asked.

"The Essosi maybe though I never heard anything about disagreements," _And you would know_ thought Barristan. "Maybe the Martells, but after twenty years…"

"The Starks?"

"One's dead, one's in prison, one's a cripple, one's a psychopath going around slaughtering low level dealers and leaving spray painted wolves as calling cards, and one's sixteen."

"And Sansa?"

Slynt and his men started laughing, Deem was holding his sides while Slynt was bent nearly double. "She doesn't have it in her."

"You just ruled out all the other suspects."

"There could be someone we don't know about. Besides the girl's supposed to be up in the Gulltown or something."

"It wouldn't even be the first time today something we believed to be true wasn't."

"What do you mean?"

In reply, Brienne indicated the mortal remains of the most powerful man in the city. "He's supposed to be untouchable."

Before Slynt could contort Brienne's words into a slight on his non-existent honour, Barristan decided to turn the conversation in a more neutral direction.

"What about one of Tywin's captains."

"After the unpleasantness with the Reynes, I rather doubt it."

"That was twenty five years ago," pointed out Hunt.

"What about rivals?" asked Brienne.

"Tywin didn't have rivals, not anymore." _Gods the man has drunk the kool-aid, he probably couldn't put together a decent investigation that wasn't fixed and by all accounts his men couldn't follow a child to school without being made and labelled perverts. Tywin had at least one rival, who had just set him on fire. And shot him six times._

"Alright, let's just pull in all the major drug dealers in the city, work over the informants and see if we can't find a suspect. Who knows forensics might even give us something."


	2. Celebrating

Meanwhile, down near the docks, in a pub called the Three Eyed Crow, the Stark crew was celebrating. Sansa and Bran were seated in a corner booth and more than a dozen Stark Organisation members were celebrating the fall of the House of Lannister. The death of Tywin hadn't been the only victory that night.

Around midnight, Arya had slipped a vial full of some chemical supplied by Oberyn Martell into Gregor Clegane's drink and walked away.

An hour before Tywin died, some of the guys had grabbed Roose Bolton and Walder Frey as they drove home, killed their guards, made them put on life jackets, shot them and thrown them into Blackwater Bay; they'd probably be found by midday. Roose didn't have any children – not since Robb had killed Ramsey for beating Sansa's friend Jeyne Poole. Walder, on the other hand, had many children by many different women, and he was the only thing holding them together. Even before the old man had been offed they had started quietly taking each other out. With any luck, Walder's death would set off an all-out war between the different branches of the family. It was no less than the treacherous bastards deserved.

An hour after Tywin burned, they'd broken into the Lannister's main stash house, as well as those of the Boltons and Freys. They had plenty of gear to work with until the Pentoshi showed up in a couple of weeks.

All in all, nineteen people had been killed, Tywin, his three guards, Clegane, Bolton and his driver, Frey and his guards, and nine guards at the three stash houses. It was probably the most violent night in the last two decades. Which was going to be a problem, but doing it slow and giving those who had lived through the first night a chance to go underground and tool up wasn't an option. The people in this room, plus a couple of people who were even now vialling up the take from the stash houses, were all they had. For now.

Sansa looked around the room, relieved that despite the general revelry there were several armed men at the doors, who seemed to be drinking nothing stronger than lemonade. Brynden Tully wouldn't let the guards drink coke, he said it made it too easy to hide alcohol. Sansa had asked him how he was supposed to stop his men drinking something clear. Her great-uncle had replied that real men didn't drink clear liquor.

Apparently, the men taking tequila shots with Arya at the bar weren't real men. Which probably explained why they were half-conscious. Arya had shown up at the house where Sansa was staying not long after Sansa had returned to Kings Landing. Their father had once described them as "as different as the sun and moon", but Sansa and Arya both liked to watch the shoebox apartment their mother had moved into once the City had confiscated Ned Stark's assets. Neither had actually gone in, Sansa because she wanted to conceal the fact that she was back in town and Arya because Tywin had put a five-figure price on her head, as retribution for the fact that Arya liked killing Lannister drug dealers and leaving spray painted wolves as calling cards. When you thought about it, the sisters weren't all that different, though Sansa thought she was a little more restrained.

For some reason, Sansa's thoughts turned to Shae. The woman was prickly, no doubt, but she was in it for herself, which had made it easy to get her to help take down Tywin Lannister. A hundred thousand dollars and a new name was a small price to pay. It was also a threat that Tywin hadn't seen coming, the look on his face when Brynden told Shae to leave, by name, had made that clear. Now she was gone, in a car bound for Lannisport and, hopefully, a better life than she'd had thus far.

All the other evidence from the night before was gone too, the clothes burned, the weapons dumped in the Blackwater along with the KLCW cruiser, the stolen car the crew had used to get to Tywin's house and the burner phones that Sansa and Shae had used to communicate. Provided noone talked, even Tywin's cameras couldn't be used to convict them. There would be heat, with so many bodies that was inevitable. The important thing now was to move fast and make sure there were no more than there had to be.

Sansa got up, signalling to the others that it was time to get down to business. Brynden, Larence and Jeyne Stark got up and headed for the managers office/poker room at the back of the bar, dropping their phones on the bar, where Beth Cassel quickly collected them and dropped them into a small box beneath the bar.

Sansa moved to grab the handlebars on Bran's wheelchair, but he spoke before she could actually make contact. "Don't even think about it." Sansa looked at Meera, who simply rolled her eyes. Bran led the way through the crowd. And even though he wouldn't let her push him, Bran did consent to letting Sansa pass his cell phone, together with her own, to Beth before they went into the back room.

Brynden immediately picked up a detector wand like the ones at the airports and ran it over Sansa and Bran, who couldn't resist commenting. "Sometimes I think you're too paranoid."

"The Whisperers have bugs the size of your pinky nail now."

"Yeah, the Whisperers. The cops on the other hand count themselves lucky to be using tape recorders."

"Paranoia preserves, boy."

Before the Organisation's chief enforcer and moneyman started actually fighting, Sansa cut in. "Boys we have work to do, you can measure them later." The two men nodded.

The five gathered around the poker table.

"Brynden, you might as well start talking to the street dealers this afternoon."

"Will do."

"What do you think the other Lannisters will do?"

Like we discussed, Kevan might be able to pull it together quickly, he was basically his brother's number two, but the kids, Tywin kept them away from the business."

"He never thought anyone but himself could do his job." Put in Jeyne. Her family, the Westerlings, had work for Tywin for a long time and had made their peace with him after Jeyne and Robb had run off together. She knew at least some of how Tywin thought.

"They could still do some damage." Sansa and Brynden would both have preferred to make a clean sweep, but there simply weren't enough Stark men to do that and they'd chosen to prioritise secrecy over completeness.

"I'll have some of the lads keep an eye on them. But we've brought ourselves some time at least."

"That we did. Larence, when can we expect our new product to come online."

"This lot'll be vialled up in a few days. The corner kids won't run out 'til then and it'll give them plenty of time to sell out what they have in stock."

"Multiple stash houses?"

"No, but I'm think I'll set up a set up a separate store for most of the dope, just get the cooks to do a week at a time."

Sansa nodded approvingly. "Bran, do you have a count room organised?"

"There's a house just off the north highway that's already set up, but I want to have the street dealers meet collectors at different points rather than take them to that room. I also have some storage units set up, so once it's counted I can take them there, split it up so the cops can't get it all in one go."

"Sounds like a good plan." It was good to know those two had had those things in hand, Sansa had basically passed those jobs off to them while she focused on Tywin. She turned to Brynden. "Can we arrange that?"

"Shouldn't be a problem, we can do pick up and drop off at the same time or separately."

Sansa nodded. "For you Jeyne, I have a gift." Sansa walked over to the desk, and pulled out several folders, putting most of them down on the desk and taking one back to the table and passing it to Jeyne. "A way to bring your husband home."

Jeyne opened the folder, saw what was inside and smiled. "Thank you." Sansa just nodded.

"Well, we shouldn't sit here all day, we have something to celebrate after all." The five of them stood and walked back out into the main bar.

It was done, Sansa had cast the die. This morning they could celebrate, but after that there was still much to be done.

* * *

**A/N**: As some of you may notice, this story has changed categories from Game of Thrones to A Song of Ice and Fire. It just fitted better here. As always, please review.


	3. When It's Not Your Day

Forensics did not in fact give them anything, the bullet had gone through the head of the guard in the car – whose name was Addam Marband – and pancaked on the frame of the passenger seat. The shoes the murderers wore were all off the shelf and had no distinctive wear patterns. No prints or shell casings were recovered. Though there was some gunshot residue on a window of the house opposite Tywin's, the family was away on holiday. The KLCW cruiser hadn't been found yet, but it had been driven off an open parking lot in Stokeworth about a quarter hour before the murders.

Hyle put down the phone. "Vice has a name for our lady of negotiable virtue, Shae, no last name. She works from a brothel called the Silky Night but she mostly does house calls."

"Get down there; get an address or a phone number." Hunt put on his jacket and headed out the door.

Slynt walked by holding a cup of what smelled like tea. When Barristan gave him a look, Slynt shrugged. "I'm going to get some rack time, then we'll go out and pick up any crew chief we can find." He turned to go, stopped as if remembering something, and turned back. "Gregor Clegane had a heart attack around midnight."

"He's dead?"

"Yeah."

"Hell of a coincidence"

"Clegane's a big guy."

"He's no older than forty and it's not like he ate fast food every day."

Slynt peered at Selmy for a long moment. "You're thinking someone poisoned him?"

"Oberyn Martell isn't called the Red Viper for nothing. And Clegane is supposed to have had something to do with his sister's death."

Slynt didn't seem to have a reply for that. "I'll ask around." He turned to go.

"Janos. I get that you feel you have to make an example of the pricks responsible for this, but I'd like to be able to put this one down as well."

"And how do we do that?"

Barristan couldn't help but hate himself, but he knew how the game was played. "Death of a known suspect."

Slynt considered that for a moment. "I'll let you know what I find." He headed off down towards the lifts.

Barristan looked at the pictures four shooters on the whiteboard. Whoever had done this wasn't wholly cold blooded, they'd set the man on fire for the love of the gods. And shot him six times. But they were also smart enough to leave no meaningful evidence, despite the sloppiness of the left behind recordings. Unless that wasn't a mistake. There was a fair chance that tape would be leaked to the news outlets by tonight. Either way, the violent manner of Tywin's death sent a powerful message: _I can go to this powerful man's house and make him die screaming, imagine what I can do to you._ Then Tywin Lannister's mad dog had died of a heart attack the very night his boss had met a most grisly end. Hell of coincidence. The words of his own mentor, Arthur Dayne, came back to him. _Never assume it's a coincidence._

DS Loras Tyrell and DC Emmon Cuy walked into the bullpen.

"Morning boss." It occurred to Barristan that the two men shouldn't have been out of the office. They weren't up, that privilege belonged to Crane and Morrigen.

"What are you two doing out?" So what if lack of sleep had left him light on social graces, he'd never really held with that emotional stuff Education and Training was currently trying to foist upon the City Watch.

"Triple in Stokeworth," said Cuy.

"Give me the rundown." Barristan was head of the Homicide Unit, it was his job to keep on top of these things.

"Dead were all known members of the Bolton organisation. Armed. Cause and manner of death was gunshot wounds to the torso, shotguns to be precise. House was not known to be used by the Boltons, but we found baby powder, bowls, all that shit."

"The main stash?"

"Yeah, Crane and Morrigen caught another triple in Southside, up near the Kingswood." Loras informed him.

"That's Frey territory".

"Indeed, and I heard there was another triple at Blackton, Caron and Oakheart caught that one."

"The Lannister main stash, we can assume. The Stranger was busy tonight."

"Barristan." Ginny, his secretary, spoke up. "I have the commander on the phone, line two."

Barristan went over to his office and picked up the phone. "Sir."

"Why the fuck am I being pulled out of bed at six o'clock in the morning over some fucking massacre, and more importantly, why the fuck am I not getting this call from the head of my fucking homicide unit, but instead from the fucking Mayor?"

"Sir, I felt that there was nothing I couldn't tell you at three o'clock that couldn't wait until seven thirty."

"But you thought it right to inform the Mayor?"

"Sir, with respect, I did not get tip staves by failing to respect the chain of command."

There was a pause on the end of the line. When Ser Jacelyn Bywater came back on the line, he sounded considerably calmer. "Sorry, Barristan, you didn't deserve that. Who was it that spilled?" He'd clearly decided murder could wait.

Barristan looked out the glass wall of his office, quickly focusing on one individual. "I don't know for certain, but I think we can both guess."

"Well, bawl him out, and if that doesn't work, tell me and I'll put him on a boat, teach him he doesn't work for daddy."

"Yes, sir."

"In other news, we're wanted at the 'hall at ten to brief the Mayor, don't be surprised if the DPP is there as well." He was probably right, Renly Baratheon was entirely beholden to the Tyrell, though from what Barristan could gather from their few meetings, Renly seemed to think it was the other way around.

"Understood, we should ride together; keep with the Mayor's spirit of preventing waste." The opportunity this granted for the two men to get their stories straight went unsaid.

"I couldn't agree more."

"Very well sir, I should also inform you that DCI Slynt is assisting with the investigation. Do you want him to accompany us?"

"Yes." There was a pause. "Did they really set Tywin Lannister on fire?"

"And shot him six times, sir."

"I'll see you in the garage at nine thirty, Barristan."

"Yes, sir." He put down the phone and carefully considered what to do next. There was no point in humiliating the lad any more than he had to and this room wasn't soundproof. Fortunately, the homicide unit did have two excellent soundproof interrogation rooms.

He found Loras at his desk. "Tyrell, with me." Loras followed him into Interrogation 2 and Barristan slammed the door behind him.

"What is my rank, Sergeant?"

"Sir?"

"What. Is. My. Rank. Sergeant?

"Chief Inspector, sir."

"So you understand that I am, in fact, your superior?"

"Yes sir."

"And yet you saw fit, to go behind not only my back but those of four other members of the chain of command, including the Commander of the City Watch and put our business in front of the Mayor?"

"With respect sir, this isn't some regular homicide, and he is my father." One the one hand, he'd at least had the decency not to deny it. On the other hand, the way he underlined his relationship with the Mayor suggested the boy thought he was invincible. He needed a reality check before things truly got out of hand and Barristan saw no reason to do that at a conversational volume.

"You by passed the chain of command Sergeant. I just got off the phone with the Commander after he got woken in the middle of the night by the Mayor and asked questions he didn't have answers for. He himself has given me permission to do you. This is your last chance. You talk out of school one more time and you'll be riding a boat on the midnight shift, and you'll stay there, because no one will _ever_ want to take you off." Loras Tyrell paled. He'd gotten the message. Barristan lowered his voice. "You're right, this isn't some run of the mill homicide, we've got at least fourteen bodies and the whole goddam underworld as suspects. You didn't make sergeant in this unit by being stupid. So pull your head in and you'll go far. But remember what I said."

"Yes sir."

"Alright, get back out there and do your job."

Tyrell walked out first, and Barristan followed him.

In the bullpen the detectives, including Caron, Morrigen, Crane and Oakheart who had returned from their crime scenes, were discussing the various cases.

"All three of our guys were killed by shotgun wounds to the chest," said Crane.

"Same with us," said Oakheart.

Barristan sat back, Loras was the first to put it together. "Show us the shells." Evidence bags from all three scenes were produced, all containing the same kind of shotgun shell.

"Son a bitch," breathed Morrigen.

"Someone pissed off the three largest gangs in King's Landing, are they suicidal."

"No" said Brienne. "Committed. Roose Bolton and Walder Frey didn't come home last night, and Tywin Lannister was set on fire–"

"And shot six times," put in Hunt, looking immeasurably pleased with himself.

Brienne continued as if nothing had happened. "All three gangs are going to be in disarray, giving the robbers enough time to sell the gear and get the hell out of dodge, or to set up their own distribution network."

"You think robbery is a possible motive?" Barristan asked.

"It's a hell of a lot of noise for a robbery, but we're dealing with up to five million dollars in drugs here. People have killed for less. And you always say that until we know for certain we should keep out options open."

"Kiss ass," said Crane.

"At least she listens," replied Barristan.

"These guys must have been pretty organised," said Loras. "In a single night, they robbed three main stash houses, killed Tywin Lannister, probably killed Roose Bolton and Walder Frey, and their guards–"

"And Gregor Clegane," said Barristan.

"He's dead?"

"Heart attack, around midnight."

"Hm. Anyway, like I said, it makes Eastern Shield look like slow motion. There had to have been a hell of a lot of planning behind this." EASTERN SHIELD was a Royal Army attack on a Dothraki army that was threatening the Pentos. Despite the fact that the Pentoshi armies had been fighting a losing battle with the Dothraki for five years, the Royal Army had beaten them back across the Rhoyne in a little less than a month.

At that moment, Ginny poked her head over the divider. "A patrol man just found a Royce Motors car with a dead body inside. Kid had the good sense to run the plates, it's listed in the computer as belonging to one Roose Bolton.

"In his own name?" Brienne asked.

"So communications says."

"They got sloppy."

"And paid for it," agreed Oakheart.

"What was the patrolman's name?" Barristan asked.

"Don't know, but I can find out."

"Do. Who's up?"

"Norris and Krutchfield."

"Send them out, we need as many eyes on this thing as we can." Barristan turned back to the others. "I think it's safe to assume that all these cases are connected. If we sift through all this we're bound to find something." Fourteen bodies so far, probably the highest number of bodies dropped since the Red Wedding - the original one. And the day was still young.

* * *

Daylight did not bring better news. In addition to the fourteen bodies he'd had by six am, Walder Frey and Roose Bolton, both, strangely enough, dressed in life jackets, and Walder Frey's bodyguards had been found. Eighteen bodies. Someone had checked, in all the years since the KLCW had kept records, there had never been that many bodies.

What was more, they now had no leads. Shae wasn't at her house or at the Silky Night. Ballistics had found no hits on any of the firearms used. The cruiser used to facilitate the murders hadn't shown up, nor had the car used by the other killers. Only one of the stash houses had a domain awareness camera watching it, and that had been busted three days before persons unknown had smashed down the door of the stash house and killed all within, an hour after it had been repaired.

Barristan, Slynt and Bywater were sitting in the Mayor's office, having just laid out the whole case for him. In addition to Mace Tyrell, his son and Chief of Staff Garlan and his daughter and press secretary Margaery, as well as Renly Baratheon, the King's Landing Director of Public Prosecutions, were all present. The last bomb that the trio had dropped was that Tywin was one of the city's biggest drug dealers.

It took several goes before Mace Tyrell could even speak. "So what you're telling me is…"

"Gods," breathed Garlan.

"But…"

Margaery started laughing.

"Hey, this is my ass here."

"No, it's just that, Tywin was one of our biggest donors, our second largest, after the family. We are utterly fucked. Not only have we just presided over the single most violent night in five hundred years, we also consorted with a drug dealer."

"We didn't know that."

"Come father, do you really think that anyone will believe that. It's not like we checked how he made his money before we took it from him."

Mace turned to Renly and Bywater. "How did we not know about this? How is this not public knowledge?"

It was Barristan who spoke. "Tywin was charged once with murder. If I remember correctly, he made the mistake of dealing with the guy personally. There was a witness. It never went to trial."

"Why not?"

"The witness died."

"Of what?"

"Acute lead poisoning."

"Great."

"Wasn't he wearing one of those tracking anklets?" Slynt asked.

"Yup, led us right to the body, those things work," replied Barristan.

"Bywater, these people need to be found, and not just because of the optics, you can't just murder eighteen people and get away with it. This cannot stand." The man sounded like he was already putting together his press conference speech.

"Sir, I'll have my people get their heads together, see if they can't work this out. But it's going to take time and resources.

"However much money you need, but I'm going to need results fast if I'm going to survive this."

"Understood sir." Barristan wondered if Bywater knew the kind of promise he was making. He probably did, and in any case it wasn't like he had a choice about making it.

"Right, Margaery we need to get a speech prepared..." Then the intercom buzzed.

The male voice was surprisingly calm given the news he was about to deliver. "Sir, Miss Tyrell, I have a reporter on the line, he wants to know if the Mayor has a comment on some pictures showing a DCI Slynt accepting money from Tywin Lannister, who he says is a known drug trafficker."

Barristan looked at Slynt, who had gone utterly pale. Everyone knew Slynt was corrupt, hell if the whole world didn't know it, but Barristan couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough to actually get caught with his hand out. The whole Watch would burn for this.

Mace just looked at his desk, no doubt contemplating the impending end of his political career.

In the end it was Margaery who spoke, a note of sad humour in her voice. "When it's not your day."

* * *

**A/N**: Blackton and Southside are, of course, made up. Even for a bunch who are involved in a blood feud with their enemies, the Court of Kings Landing don't get out much in the books. Blackton is west of the ASOIAF-era King's Landing, the latter is on the south bank of the Blackwater, both are suburbs in Greater Kings Landing, which is sort of like London.

As always reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.


	4. Blood

"I have to say, watching Margaery Tyrell squirm is practically porn."

"I don't find it hard to believe that you think that Harry," Sansa replied. That got a few laughs from the bar. "I'm heading out." Brynden and Harry both got up from their respective tables and followed her out into the street.

She'd been putting this off for days; in truth she'd been putting it off for more than a year. But it had to be done, no matter how uncomfortable it would be.

The radio was switched to a news station, Harry's choice, as Margaery Tyrell announced a new initiative to fight corruption city wide. The irony. Sansa tuned it out.

* * *

_It had all began the day after Robb had been sentenced for possession with intent to distribute. More exactly it had all begun the day Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon had helped Jon Arryn chain a fridge to Petyr Baelish's ankles and thrown both man and fridge into Blackwater Bay. Because that's what you do for a friend, when some idiot steals from him and screws his wife. But for Sansa it had begun the day after she'd seen her brother locked away for twenty years. She'd dropped out of Uni when her father died to take care of her mother. When Robb was arrested, the house and the family businesses had been seized and most of their bank accounts had been frozen. So the day he brother had been sentenced to twenty years in prison, she'd cleaned out her trust, traded her convertible for a second hand car, and driven out of King's Landing with a little over a quarter of a million dragons in a suitcase, and three changes of clothes, to her name._

_When she'd gotten to Gulltown, she'd booked into a charge by the hour motel, put her suitcase under the bed and then walked six blocks to find a pay phone. Tywin had real money and she didn't want some Whisperer telling him where she was staying._

_The meeting between her and Lysa Tully was the next day._

_"Hold on there, little lady." Sansa turned and saw man not much older than her getting out of a beat up car. "Harry Hardyng." _

_ "Sansa Stark. I'm here to talk to Lysa Tully, I have an appointment."_

_"You got some ID"_

_"I do not. Nor do I need any." _

_At that point Harry put his hand on her shoulder. "I can't just let anyone in to see them." His hand shifted down to her upper arm. As much as Sansa wanted to bury the toe of her shoes between his thighs it wouldn't get her into the building. So she fixed him with her best icy stare. Harry's hand stopped its descent, but he didn't remove it either._

_Their impasse was broken by the door opening. Brynden Tully walked into the sunlight_

_The meeting with Lysa had not gone well. Once Sansa had laid out her case, one she'd spent the last few days thinking through, Lysa's answer had been immediate._

_"No."_

_"No?"_

_"The Lannisters are too strong. How would you even begin to oppose them."_

_"At least I'm not sitting around while everything my family built turns to rubble." Not her smartest move, she realised, but it was the truth. A year ago, the Arryn organisation had controlled organised crime in Gulltown, Maidenpool, White Harbour and Duskendale. Now, with Jon Arryn dead, it was barely hanging on to parts of Gulltown as new crews – some of them made up of defecting Arryn soldiers – contested the Arryns for control of the city._

_"My priority is the protection of my family."_

_"We are your family."_

_"Robert is my family. You should look to yours."_

_Sansa wanted to scream, and preferably flip over the table; instead she rose and excused herself, bidding her aunt a good day – politeness is important._

_Just before she put her hand on the front door, someone grabbed her arm. Sansa whirled, only to see that it was Brynden. "Lysa ordered me to stay in the next room so I heard what you said." It was so nice to know that her aunt trusted her. "Are you sure you want this?"_

_"They took everything from me, they have to pay."_

_"Your father didn't want this life for any of you."_

_"He thought we'd have a choice, we no longer have that luxury." Brynden nodded._

_"In that case, I can help you; you certainly can't do it yourself."_

_"What about Lysa?"_

_"She never goes out and I'll be sure to leave some muscle to take care of her. She won't be able to control the city, but she can't do that now."_

_"Alright."_

_"In that case, give me a few days to settle things here."_

_Two days later Brynden had shown up in a pair of SUVs together with six of his men, including Harry, which had sent the manager and the local drug dealers running off down the street. He'd given her a new ID – complete with passport, driver's license and birth certificate in the name of Alayne Stone – and a Waters Arms 9mm pistol._

_"So, the Arryns won't help us and Otto Hightower won't either after that unpleasantness with his nephew." Sansa had thought it prudent not to ask what the unpleasantness was. "Lannisport works for Tywin, even if they claim independence, so we can't expect any help there. So, let's go see the Martells."_

* * *

Catelyn Stark lived in a five storey walk up, a shoebox apartment that was barely big enough for her and Rickon, which probably explained why he was seldom there. The other explanation was immediately obvious when Sansa walked in the door. Catelyn Stark sat by one of the few windows in the apartment, staring at nothing. For the first time, Sansa was forced to acknowledge that Lysa may have had a point.

Sansa knelt down beside her mother's chair. "Mama."

The broken woman in the chair turned to her. "Sansa?"

"Yes Mama, it's me."

"You look so thin dear, have you been eating?"

"Yes Mama."

"You've been away for so long." The sadness in her mother's voice almost broke Sansa's heart.

"I had to go away Mama, but I'm back now, and I'm going to get you a nicer place, somewhere Bran can come visit you." Catelyn Stark nodded, a small smile beginning to form on her lips. Sansa decided to leave out the possibility of Robb's return, if the Court ruled against him, it would only break her heart all over again. "Would you like some tea Mama?

"Yes sweetheart. Thank you." Sansa gave her mother's hand a quick squeeze and then walked into the kitchen, where she found her brother drinking juice straight out of the carton.

"Hey."

"Hey." Rickon seemed utterly unconcerned with her sudden reappearance in his life.

There was an awkward while Rickon pulled out some meat and a loaf of bread and made himself a sandwich. "How are you?"

"Like you care." He tried to walk past her.

Sansa grabbed Rickon's arm. "I care. What do you think I've been doing for the last year? Trying to help this family. And what's this I hear about you getting into fights at school, you're only making this harder for her." She felt Brynden move up behind her.

"You don't get to say to me. I'm the one who has to stay here and watch her fall apart."

"You think it's easy for me. He was my father, she is my mother, Robb is my brother. I am just as angry as you are." She gathered her breath as Rickon stood with a chastened look on his face. "It's not easy, but if you let that anger get control of you, you'll never be able to do anything about it. And even then it requires sacrifice, and believe me when I say it's not easy."

"It's hard not to be angry." Sansa's heart wanted to break all over again.

"That it is mate," said Brynden. "Tell you what, I'll take you down to the gym while your sister talks to your Mother. It always helped me out."

"Okay."

"Then give your sister a hug." The two embraced before Rickon and Brynden left the apartment. Sansa set about making tea. Right or wrong, Rickon was still her brother and both he and their mother needed her.

* * *

_Oberyn Martell hadn't been as intimidating as she'd expected. Dressed in a loose fitting suit and no tie he was a picture of relaxation. Though to be honest Sansa had been expecting leathery skin and fangs, given the Red Viper's reputation._

_The Water Gardens resort was everything the tourist ads said it was, fine dining, clean casinos, an enormous set of pools, apparently there was even health spa buried away somewhere in the comple. Sansa, and Brynden were sitting at a table while the parties' respective bodyguards occupied h_

_"So, just to be clear, you want us to back you in a war against Tywin Lannister, not just with money but with men as well, putting us in danger of open war with the Lannisters, which would bring with it the loss of our connections with the Essosi importers and the kind of attention we have worked strenuously to avoid. And you intend that we will not get a share of the King's Landing trade, so in effect you offer us nothing."_

_"Other than Tywin Lannister's head on a stick, yes." The demise of her father had not been the first time that Tywin had acted without regard to collateral damage. Before Sansa was born it had been Tywin that had put a bomb beneath Rhaegar Targaryen's car, killing Rhaegar along with his wife, Elia Targaryen, nee Martell, and their two children. It had ended the war that had broken the Targaryen monopoly on imports, but it also cost Tywin his share in the spoils and cemented his reputation as a merciless bastard, as well as earning him the Martell's enduring hatred._

_"Very well. Assuming you succeed, would you agree to stand neutral if we were to expand our operations into Duskendale and Gulltown?"_

_"No."_

_"Lysa Tully has clearly abandoned you or you would not be here."_

_"That doesn't mean she isn't family," Sansa stated firmly._

_Oberyn shrugged. "It was worth a try, I will convey your terms to my brother."_

_Sansa spent the next three days lying by the pool, swimming, walking around the grounds and pacing her room. One night she'd run into Mrycella Baratheon and Trystane Martell, and she couldn't help but envy the way they looked at each other. Strange, considering that their parents hated each other._

_At around 10pm on the third day, Sansa was playing limit Trident hold 'em, which differed from Mander hold 'em in ways Sansa didn't fully understand, with Harry and a couple of the other guys while Uncle Brynden pecked away at a keyboard. Harry was more respectful now; Sansa assumed it had something to do with the yellowing bruise around his left eye. Sansa looked at the three men seated around the table, and added the equivalent of five dragons. _

_Gyles and Jory folded, but Harry was more stubborn. "I see your five, and raise you another five." Sansa was fairly certain he was bluffing, so she added her own chips to match his raise. Gyles dealt the river and just for a second, Harry's face fell. _

_Gyles wasn't going to let him off the hook that easy. "Come on Harry, she hasn't got anything better than a pair." Harry looked at Sansa long and hard before adding another five to the pot. Sansa bet as well._

_They showed down. Harry had a two pair, while Sansa had a full house. _

_There was a knock on the door. All three men pulled pistols out of their waistbands. Brynden took cover behind a corner while Harry knelt behind a couch, while Gyles called one of the other rooms to get the guys there to poke their heads out to see what was going on. Sansa stepped back out of the line of fire and drew the pistol that Brynden had spent a few days teaching her how to use. No one actually approached the door. _

_The person at the door knocked again, and there were muffled voices on the other side, a question and a reply. Gyles heard something on the phone and put it down. "It's Quentyn and Arianne." The men put their pistols away. Harry opened the door._

_Once they were seated, it was Quentyn who spoke first. "Our father finds your terms acceptable. We will provide you with four men and access to bank accounts. We trust you will not exploit us." A rather stupid thing to say, as if the four men that still worked for the Martells were not also there to ensure that there was no double cross._

_It made Sansa wonder whether Quentyn was really Doran's underboss. "And if we should need more?"_

_Quentyn hesitated and so it was Arianne who answered. "This is a one-time deal, you screw up, we won't be coming to your aid again." Question answered._

_"Well, I deeply appreciate your help in this matter." She rose to shake hands with both of them. "I know we can't promise success, but I nonetheless hope that we shall have a long and profitable relationship in future." _

_She said the last part looking directly at Arianne, who nodded in reply. "When you see Tywin, say goodbye from us."_

_"I will."_

_"Our men will be waiting downstairs in the morning," said Quentyn._

_"Thank you." The two left._

_Brynden turned to her. "What was that all about?"_

_"Just finding out who's going to succeed Doran?"_

_"And what use is that?"_

_"At the moment, nothing, but that doesn't mean I can't keep an eye on the long game. Now, I have some money to win."_

* * *

Crownlands Penitentiary was an old place, clanging doors, guards shouting, and even in the visitor's room, Sansa was not comfortable here. She hoped she would never have to be here again, but she forced herself to acknowledge it as a possibility, as Brynden was fond of saying: it is only very stupid people who think the cops are stupid.

"You know, Jon came to visit me, and he spends most of his life running up and down the Frostfangs."

"They only do the Fan Dance once."

"He's still in the SAS and he still came to see me when you didn't, even though he's our cousin and you're my sister."

"Prison has turned you into such a whiner."

"I merely wanted to know why you didn't come to see me or Mother for the last year."

"I spent three hours with Mother this morning."

"Yeah and before that?"

"It's complicated"

"No, quadratic equations are complicated. Being there for your family, that's simple, hell, that's human nature" There was more than a little hurt in Robb's voice, and anger, no doubt on behalf of their mother.

"I can't explain now," she said slowly, giving Robb a meaningful look. All conversations, except those covered by spousal and solicitor-client privilege, were recorded. "I take it you've heard about recent events."

He nodded. "There's not much to do here except read the papers and watch TV. Besides, Great Jon and Galbert Glover can't stop singing 'ding dong the witch is dead'."

"I meant about Janos Slynt."

"Jeyne told me. Have to say the irony pleases me. And I look forward to seeing him."

"You won't, he's not being sent here, apparently, he's being sent to the Wall."

"Pity." There was a pause and Sansa could tell that her brother wanted to ask her something about those recent events, and she was thankful when he didn't. "Any updates on my appeal?"

"Luwin said that they'll make a decision on an appeal bond sometime next week."

"Hm." Robb gave another significant pause. "Sansa, if you ever find out who shot Tywin, they get a bottle of bourbon on me. And spend some more time with Mum."

"I will."

"So how's Bran? The last time I saw him he was still in rehab from the shooting, just another thing I thought I had more time for."

"He's good, he has a job, bookkeeping for a few different firms and he's doing an accounting course at community college.

"Good, and Rickon?

"He's run a little wild, fights at school, but I think we can get him back on the right track."

"Good he'll need you. So, what have you been doing with yourself?

"Well…"

* * *

_Brynden and Sansa had arrived back in King's Landing almost three months after Robb Stark had been sentenced, a year after her father had died. One of their first stops was her mother's apartment. The two of them had driven in together, with the others driving in separate cars_

_"You should go in."_

_"If Tywin's smart, and he is, he'll be watching. The only advantage we have is surprise."_

_"She's your mother."_

_"You think I'm not aware of that?"_

_"You might never get a chance to see her again."_

_"I know, but we've already said our goodbyes."_

_"If you're sure?"_

_"I am."_

_"In that case, we should get to work."_

_And they did._

* * *

A/N: God that took forever.

Before anybody asks where I get the ideas for these horrible deaths from, the inspiration for Petyr's death came from the fate of Brian Alexander, a character in season 2 of the Australian show "Underbelly". And who says violent television doesn't affect us ;) .

The Fan Dance is a 24km march up and down Pen y Fan which must be completed in four and a quarter hours. It isn't even the hardest thing someone has to do to get into the SAS.

Also, I realised when I was writing this chapter that putting Tywin's house in Rosby placed him about 75km from King's Landing, we'll just say that Rosby contracts its policing out to KLCW and that Tywin is able to run a criminal organisation from nearly an hour's drive away, or something.

As always constructive criticism and general adulation are welcome.


	5. Task Force Viserion

Janos Slynt cracked almost as soon as Internal Investigations sat him down. He'd confessed to being part of a network of officers who protected and occasionally did jobs for Tywin Lannister. By the time he'd realised what he was doing and shut his mouth, there was too much for I.I. to ignore, especially with the article. In addition to Slynt, all four of the unit's inspectors, eight of the sergeants and more than half of the Detectives had been suspended and most of them would go before a trial board before the month was out. Unlike Slynt, they'd all had the decency to keep their mouths shut.

Obviously the 'hall and the bosses had decided that it was better to endure the embarrassment of an obviously corrupt narcotics unit than to have a Royal Commission established, or worse, an Independent Conduct Authority. It probably wouldn't be enough to save them, especially if the investigation spread.

In any case, it would be weeks before the unit could put itself back together. In the meantime, Barristan had a red ball to end all red balls to deal with. The offices of Task Force Viserion – Barristan had no idea how they had come up with that name – were located in some spare office space at the West Barracks, which served as headquarters of the City Watch.

With almost everyone in Narcotics under investigation, Barristan was having to make do with "Detectives" from the District Drug Enforcement Units, as well as a few people from Vice and the Intelligence Section. He'd also managed to get the Constable who'd found Balon's driver, Podrick Payne, detailed to the Criminal Investigation Section, and he'd appointed Brienne to oversee the drugs side of the investigation as she'd been in Narcotics before transferring to Homicide.

Loras walked in. "Jaime Lannister is dead."

"How?"

"Two guys in ski masks took him down this morning while he was out for a run."

"Well, rest in peace." There would be more than one case closed due to death of a known suspect with that son of a bitch in the ground.

"Yeah."

"Anything on forensics?"

"Two 9mm pistols used, fourteen hits, twelve strays collected; three of the bullets are suitable for comparison."

"What about the other four?"

"Excuse me?"

"A 9mm holds fifteen bullets, thirty rounds between the two shooters, but fourteen plus twelve is only twenty six."

"Not sure. I'll follow up."

"Witnesses?"

"Car was a late model Royce Motors sedan, reported stolen this morning, as yet unfound." They'd never found the cars used in what the press had called the 'Saturday Night Massacre', so Barristan wasn't holding out much hope.

"Anything else?"

"Robb Stark got his appeal bond."

"I heard." The King's Justice – or whichever of his subordinates he'd farmed it out to – had apparently decided that there was no point extending Robb Stark's stay in prison.

"Justice prevails," put in Hunt sarcastically.

"And now the public are going to think we're all corrupt."

"I'm sure quite a few of them believed that before, and we can overcome it by working hard and sticking to the rules." He decided it was best to end this discussion. "Anything on the homicides?"

"Nothing so far. And seeing as the CIG no longer exists, I have to go to each department directly to try to find out about the Stark's movements. They haven't gotten back to me yet." The Criminal Intelligence Group had been the Realm's primary clearing house for information gathered by local police departments, HG Customs, and regional crime squads. The Group had been closed after the Whisperer's entire budget had been earmarked to foreign intelligence and internal security rather than criminal investigation. Apparently, someone had gone after a few nobles for corruption and tax evasion and that was the nobles' way of pushing back.

"Why even look?"

"One of my CIs said that Sansa Stark hadn't been seen around town since her brother went away and now she's back. I've got calls into Gulltown and Sunspear, seemed like good places to start.

"Hmm. Good thinking"

Barristan walked over to the collection of tables that housed his drug squad. Brienne was at one end with a few of the DEU people and Podrick writing reports.

"What do you have?"

"Well, our DEU boys have been using the light weight body mikes and cameras you got us to do controlled buys all over the city." The mikes came from one of Barristan's friend in the Whisperers. The recent demise of the Whisperer's criminal investigation division had left his friend with a few toys to spare. "We found something surprising. In the former Stark area and almost half of Southside, the corner crews are selling something they're calling Blue Magic."

"Blue Magic?"

"Indeed."

"What's Blue Magic?" asked Payne.

"It's what the Starks used to call their product," explained Barristan.

"So the Starks are taking back their old turf?"

"Or someone else wants everyone to think they are."

"Who else could it be?"

"We don't know, and as obvious as the Starks are, we don't want to focus on them without evidence. Otherwise we'll start seeing evidence when it isn't really there, and then when we get to court, the Stark's high-priced lawyers blow us out of the water. We build this case on the evidence or not at all."

"So what now?"

Barristan turned back to Brienne, who had sat patiently listening as he unofficially schooled Payne in Detective Work 101. "Did you find any stash houses for the purveyors of Blue Magic?"

"Three, but you know as well as I do that they change the houses every day."

"We'll hit them anyway; these kids could well have left something behind. Maybe someone will flip."

"They won't. The kids know they can't be hurt by a street weight charge and the adults understand the consequences of cooperating with us."

"But just to be sure, you're going to spend a couple of days being told to fuck off by fourteen year olds and you get a valuable lesson in how it's a bad idea to be a pessimist." Podrick smirked and tried to hide it, but Barristan caught it. "You can take the kid." Podrick's smirk disappeared and Brienne would have been able to hide her own from someone who hadn't known her as long as Barristan had.

"What about the other buys?" Podrick asked.

"We'll let them go for now, the DEU boys can take the stats once the case is over. Their reward for a job well done," he said, nodding towards the DEU detectives who grinned no doubt they'd been worried how their own Chief Inspector would respond to a decrease in drug arrests in his own district.

* * *

The detectives of Task Force Viserion, together with watchmen pulled from the districts carried out their raids with efficiency, if not precision. The cars rolled in from all directions, the watchmen poured out and quickly broke down the door that had been identified as a stash house while the detectives identified those who had been caught by the buys.

Barristan himself led the Stokeworth raid, which had the loosest crew and so he expected it to be the one that gave them the break they needed. He took a position on a set of steps at one end of the block, where he could see the whole street. While he would have liked to be down on the street with his people, he had been forced to acknowledge that, after 25 years in the Watch, he was not as young as he used to be.

Off to one side, Loras was cuffing one of the older kids who had been photographed selling drugs, the boy bucked back against him and so Loras threw him against a car. The boy's answer was instantaneous, "Fuck you, faggot." Loras, clearly used to slurs regarding his sexual orientation, ignored him but his partner, Cuy, buried his fist in the boy's gut. Though there were no media cameras present, yet, and the people on this street were too poor to afford cell phones with cameras, it would be best to put a lid on this.

The idiot kid was still struggling when Barristan got over to him. "Trouble?"

"Nothing we can't handle boss."

"You in charge? These cocksuckers be beating on me, I want to file a complaint."

Barristan rolled his eyes, the boy would probably never learn. The unit could be oddly protective of Loras. "From what I saw it was self-defence."

As expected, there were no drugs in the searched houses, and while one of the crews were sufficiently raggedy that the controlled buys and surveillance had managed to get what the DEU detectives thought was a crew chief in the Stokeworth crew, Brienne and Podrick were met with an impenetrable wall of fuck you. Except for the crew chief, who said no comment, even when threatened with five years with no parole for supply.

While there was nothing at the site of the stash house in Blackton, Hunt had found a trio of numbers written on one of the Southside stash house walls with the words 'muscle', 're-up' and 'D' written beside them. Everyone screws up eventually.

* * *

Barristan should have known better. Brienne gave the bad news the next week. "They're pager numbers."

He couldn't hide his disappointment. "Pagers?

"Yeah."

"Who uses pagers anymore?"

"The crew chief for one, he tossed as I rolled up on him but the officer picked it up."

"Did anyone else in the crews use pagers?"

"No one we picked up, they were all mostly low level but we don't even know who either of the other crew chiefs are in the other two crews."

"Fine, we clone the pagers, see where that leads us." He almost moved on to Loras and his homicides but then he turned back. "What do you mean they don't know who the crew chiefs are?"

"To quote 'we're knocking heads and taking bodies I didn't know we were supposed to be taking a census or something.'"

"Watchmen trying to figure the job for themselves," Barristan spoke under his breath.

"Sorry?"

"Something my Inspector said when I became a Sergeant." The speech was longer than what Barristan had said and, as he'd later realised, a tacit admission to corrupt behaviour.

Brienne looked and Loras, who shrugged. "I lit a fire under their arse, they're out taking pictures, but they don't have the first clue on how to work anything more than low level possession or to get an informant. When this meeting's over I'll go talk to one of my own."

"They don't have informants?" asked Loras.

"I quote 'We're not at West Barracks, we're out here in the trenches, we don't have time for that shit. You want information, you get your own CI and you talk to them.'"

"And people wonder why we can't keep on top of this here."

Barristan couldn't bring himself to disagree. He turned to Loras. "Anything on the bodies."

"None of the casings used in the murder of Jaime Lannister match those used in the other murders, so I expect their dumping the weapons after the job, which fits with how careful they are with forensics and the missing cars, plus the balaclavas. BID says that they were used in shootings in Gulltown and Oldtown, so my guess is they're purchasing guns outside the city, and bringing them in for the job."

Ballistics and DNA were run out of the Laws rather than the Whisperers and so had survived the cutting and burning that the Great Council had administered to the better part of the Realm's national crime fighting ability. Thank the Mother for small mercies.

"I've got calls into both cities looking for connections but they're busy, Gulltown especially."

"Alright then, you and yours can help type up the warrants for the pagers, clearly Brienne's people lack the training for that."

"Will do."

"Then your people will monitor the pagers here. Brienne, your DEU people need to get us a better picture of the King's Landing drug trade. No arrests, I don't care if they see Brynden Tully give twenty kilos of crack to Sansa Stark. The last thing we want is for the Starks to change up."

* * *

**A/N:** Jaime is one of my favourite characters in the books, for his complexity as he's not a good guy, but he didn't suffer the equivalent his capture by Robb Stark in this universe and so basically maintains his cocksure streak. So he stuck his head up and got it shot off.

Credit to litchick_08 at A03, who is writing the series The Only Crime Is to Lose, which is both excellent and an inspiration for this fic. Also to formerly-serbranflakes who made some awesome modern (I think crime) AU gifsets.

As always criticism or praise are welcome.


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